


Midnight Doodles

by scienceandcompassion



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Arthur's Journal, Everyone's happy, Fluff, Gen, Happy, at the campfire, campfire songs, he's sketching, it's hella cute, no sadness, pure fluff, theyre celebrating, warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 04:53:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17501951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scienceandcompassion/pseuds/scienceandcompassion
Summary: Arthur was nestled comfortably underneath a tree, his back resting against it. His pen was gripped lightly in one hand, worn down like the pages of his journal from years of considerate use - it was about time to buy another one. A soft, warm smile twitched his lips, a soft exhale escaping his lips as he let his eyes flick up.The sight of the camp - his family - happy was a sight he'd never dislike seeing. Wide smiles mingle with the scent of whiskey and alcohol, though are also joined by the drunken slurs of songs, laughs escaping their lips as they celebrate. Though he hasn't joined in the celebrations, there's comfort in the mere watching.





	Midnight Doodles

Arthur was nestled comfortably underneath a tree, his back resting against it. His pen was gripped lightly in one hand, worn down like the pages of his journal from years of considerate use - it was about time to buy another one. A soft, warm smile twitched his lips, a soft exhale escaping his lips as he let his eyes flick up. 

The sight of the camp - his family - happy was a sight he'd never dislike seeing. Wide smiles mingle with the scent of whiskey and alcohol, though are also joined by the drunken slurs of songs, laughs escaping their lips as they celebrate. Though he hasn't joined in the celebrations, there's comfort in the mere watching. Huddled under a long, woollen coat, he's curled into the warmth despite the big bulk of his body. Though the others surround a campfire, he prefers watching, allowing himself a break, yet also enjoying the sight. Eyes flitting down to his journal, he lets out a contented sigh, beginning to sketch the sight in front of him.

He sketches John Marston, an arm wrapped around Abigail, who's beaming and leaning into his side, arms wrapped around Jack, who's settled on her lap. He draws Hosea and Lenny, the two talking off to the side, though they join in with the singing occasionally - in fact, Hosea urges the camp to sing along to Rye Whiskey/O Mollie, a song that even has Arthur humming softly along too. He sketches Dutch, who's laughing softly, standing to the side of the campfire, a drink in his hand. He doesn't forget Tilly, who's sat cross-legged by the fire, laughs unfaltering, her pretty little grin not leaving. Reverend Swanson's settled nearby, not quite as in the festivities as the others, he's still more out of it than most, but he's there. Javier's next to Uncle, playing for the rest of the camp as Uncle belts out lyrics. Pearson's there, taking routine sips of his coffee in a comfortable watch on, though he joins along with the songs. All the girls are there, too, Sean singing lyrics with his lilting voice that sounds... surprisingly good.

When Arthur peers along, he finally notices that Charles isn't there - and his brows furrow. Concern flits across his features within a matter of seconds, and he shuffles from where he sits. Finally, he eyes him, stood with Taima, and the sight's enough for him to smile softly. Charles seems fond, gently brushing along the horse and clearing the horse of any dust, keeping up to check. He ingrains that sight into his head to sketch it later, just so he can have all of the camp looking happy. Pushing himself up off the floor, he grabs himself a drink and heads over. "Everythin' okay?" Arthur queries, voice gruff and quiet, rough as it usually, and Charles looks up from Taima, nodding slowly.

"Guess I wasn't up for getting drunk tonight, and I know Sean would make me if I went to the campfire," Charles says with a soft chuckle, and Arthur inclines his head in a nod of understanding. The Irish man gets on his nerves rather often, though... he's still family, still one of the members of the camp. And mainly, he'll adore the members of the camp, get along with each of them.

There might be one outlier - one. No doubt as to who it is, really.

Regardless, Arthur turns his focus back to the other male, humming softly along to ' Ring Dang Doo ' for a few moments, before he glances back over to his tree. "Well, I ain't plannin' on getting too drunk, if you wanna join me," he offers, returning his gaze to the other male, who lets a soft chuckle escape his lips, nodding. He places his brush down on a table nearby and follows along wordlessly as they head to the tree. Arthur settles in his original position, back against the tree, legs laying in a straight position ahead of him, whereas Charles sits cross-legged, just at his side. He doesn't mind the others doodling in his journal, and Arthur cherishes that. For a small while, they sit in silence, both clearly not minding of it, just listening to the familiar drunken drawl of songs they both enjoy. It's Charles that speaks up after a while, voice quiet and soothing. 

"Who taught you to draw? To write?" He asked curiously, with his head cocking to the side. The question draws up a sense of familiarity and warmth, and there's a smile on Arthur's lips before he can bother to stop it. "Hosea, definitely. Dutch mostly taught me how to be a good gunslinger, but Hosea? Hosea taught me reading, writing, and tried to teach me to draw. Though it was just a habit I picked up," he admitted, watching Charles' thoughtful nod and a small smile of his own. 

"Why do you draw so often?" Charles questions, drawing up a shrug from Arthur. 

"It's... It's relaxing? I like views, and it puts it into something. Don't.. really finish them all sometimes, though, I get distracted by other views," Arthur chuckles softly and shrugs lightly, fingers gently thumbing over the page he was using currently. "It's a distraction from just ' loud all the time ', I suppose. It's nice, like a horse ride through the woods," he explains after a moments thought, Charles nods to indicate his understanding to his words. "Can you... help me draw?" Charles asks after a beat, and the smile Arthur's wearing is only to widen a fraction as he nods. The faint songs forgotten about, Arthur moves to a fresh page and begins to ramble about all the ways he's used to drawing, giving Charles his pencil and giving him as many tips as he can.

The drawing Charles creates isn't amazing, filled with wavering lines and dubious parts, but... It's endearing, and he doesn't seem too fazed. Both men are smiling softly, happily, and Charles can see why Arthur finds this so relaxing. Though the night dwindles, the two remain for now, unnoticing of the way that people are slowly heading to their respective tents - not until Sean is loudly stumbling past them both, voice breaking through their thoughts. A whole page is filled with Charles' doodles, and he hands the journal back to Arthur, the smile remaining on his lips. Tired, dreary goodbyes are offered up, yawns on both of their lips.

Though, they at least walk away from it all with a smile, and a new hobby for when stress gets too much.

**Author's Note:**

> okay huge apologies for this huge amount of bad waffle i just wanted soft cowboys yeehaw u know  
> i had no plans for this and suddenly i was like hey i gotta write something  
> i just really like the friendship between charles and arthur u know  
> theyre sweeties aw  
> but also my interp of arthur and charles suck and i am so sorry-  
> im very tired this is  
> rambling and waffle like i said


End file.
